


Right At the First Stoplight

by fizzyblogic (phizzle)



Category: Brand New, Straylight Run
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-09
Updated: 2007-04-09
Packaged: 2017-10-07 21:40:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/69508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phizzle/pseuds/fizzyblogic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For kosher_pareve.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Right At the First Stoplight

**Author's Note:**

> For kosher_pareve.

It was the middle of the night and Jesse had called him.

These were two things that happened to John a lot. It being the middle of the night happened to everyone a lot, he supposed, turn of the earth and all that. But Jesse calling when it was the middle of the night saying "We're going to Bay Shore. I'll pick you up.", that only happened to John.

He rubbed his eyes and adjusted the phone against his ear, as if either action would help. "Why the fuck do you want to go to Bay Shore?" he asked; somewhat reasonably, one would assume.

Jesse, however, clearly wasn't listening. "Come on, dude, get your coat and shit, wait outside. I'll be there in like, five minutes."

"Jesse --" John tried, but the line was dead. John exhaled. Fine. Fucking _fine_, he'd go to fucking Bay Shore in the middle of the night with Jesse, why the fuck not.

Jesse leaned over to open the passenger door when he showed up. John got into the car and was silent for a minute as Jesse drove.

"You do know we have school tomorrow, right?" he asked. Jesse shrugged.

"So we'll skip, or be late, or something. Who needs sleep anyway?"

John looked out of the window and muttered, "I'm kind of fond of it, this time of night." Houses were sliding past in the dark, house after house after house. He couldn't even tell which town they were in sometimes, shadows playing on the walls. Jesse drummed his fingertips on the steering wheel.

John was just starting to drift off, falling asleep with his head tipped back against the seat when Jesse stopped the car. "We're here," he said, poking John's arm.

"Where the fuck is here?" He squinted out into the dark. Wherever it was, it wasn't lit. He heard a train go past, and light briefly tried to fall, but the darkness clearly had a strong sense of identity and stubbornly stayed dark. Or maybe that was just the reflections from the windows.

"Told you, Bay Shore. Come on." Jesse's door was already shutting. John sat for a moment, enjoying the warmth inside the car, until Jesse loomed at his window and rapped on it. "Come _on_," he called through the glass.

John, resigned, did come on. It was cold outside, but not quite as bad as he'd thought. Jesse grabbed his hand, then dropped it quickly and grabbed his arm instead. He pulled him towards a low wall, yanking him up as they climbed over it, the only sounds the distant train and their breathing.

"Jesse," John whispered, breaking the silence with an almost audible crack - he really, really needed sleep if he was almost _hearing_ that, the fuck? - "Jesse," he whispered, taking in the square dark shapes rising out of the ground, "Jesse, why are we in a cemetary?"

"I drove past here yesterday, been thinking about it ever since." It wasn't an answer. Except, for Jesse Lacey, that _was_ an answer. "Do you know what's over there?" He pointed across the street, to a large square of dark.

"No," John said, entirely thruthfully and with feeling.

"Some army barracks or shit. Isn't that incredible? I mean, here we are, there's this huge fucking cemetary, sea of dead bodies we're treading on, and _right over there_," he pointed again, "they're making even more of them. I wonder if they realise, if they ever stop and look at what's right next to them and think about how they're being trained to fill places like this. I wonder if Joe Army has a fucking _clue_ how many cemetaries' worth of dead bodies he'll see before he finds out too much and gets retired on a fantastic pension to keep his mouth shut. I wonder if they _think about it_, when they're getting their regulation hair cuts, eating their regulation dinners, lying in their regulation bunks jacking off quietly so nobody hears. All those identical identikit bullshit jackasses and they're _right next to all of this_." He spread his arms wide, indicating the slumbering headstones. "Isn't that just fucked up?"

John looked at him. "Are you high?"

"No, what the fuck, weren't you listening? It's called _clarity_, John."

"It's called you and your current pet hate talking out of your ass, Jesse. It's three in the fucking morning and I could be asleep, did you really bring me out here to rant about the army? Because if you woke me up and drove me all the way to Bay Shore at three a.m. just to rant about the fucking army, I will punch you in the fucking face, I swear to God."

"That was about the _juxtaposition_," Jesse said.

John punched him in the jaw.

"What is your fucking _problem_?" Jesse asked, massaging his chin.

"_You_, you dipshit," John answered. "You bring me out here, in the _middle of the night_, to talk about fucking juxtaposition _bullshit_, what are you _on_?"

John really didn't know why Jesse kissed him then. He was cold, and awake at an hour when he should be asleep, and pissed as hell, but Jesse kissed him, and he kissed back, because what the fucking hell. It was Jesse.

"What the fucking hell was that, Jesse?" he asked, when they simultaneously pulled away again.

Jesse shrugged.

"Yeah, so, okay, you actually did do that, just then," John muttered, and punched him in the jaw again.

"What the _fuck_?"

"You're an asshole," John informed him, and kissed him. Jesse kissed back, didn't even hesitate; John moved forwards, and Jesse followed his lead, until he was backed against a headstone, John's hands on his waist and using his own to steady himself.

"Dude, are we stepping on anyone's bones?" Jesse broke away to ask, twisting to look at the stone to check which side the writing was on.

"_God_, why do I even hang out with you?" John exhaled, a sound of pure exasperation.

"Shut up," Jesse rolled his eyes, grasping John's jacket and pulling him closer.

"Okay," John said, ten minutes later, "I am cold, it is ass o'fucking clock in the morning, and we are making out in a cemetary. Can we at least get back in the car, where there is _heat_?"

"You're such a pussy," Jesse told him, but grabbed his arm again to pull him back to the car.

"Dude, if you want to like, hold my hand or whatever, just do it, don't grab my fucking arm."

"Ass." Jesse dropped his arm. "I don't want to _hold your hand_, okay? Jerk."

John rolled his eyes. "What the fuck ever. Can we go _home_ now? You know that place, home? Where there is sleep? Will you drop me off?"

"Yeah, I'll drop you off," Jesse muttered, opening the door for him. John blinked, then got into the car, closing the door quietly as Jesse moved around the car. They drove in silence back to John's house.

"Thanks," he said, when Jesse pulled up. He unbuckled his seatbelt, but didn't move any further.

"See you tomorrow?" Jesse was staring straight ahead.

John paused. "It was weird, Jesse," he said, "but okay."

"Yeah. Yeah, okay," Jesse replied, and John wasn't completely sure of what had just happened, but he could tell that _something_ had. So he nodded, and he leaned over, and he pressed his mouth to Jesse's, and Jesse opened his mouth and kissed him, and John decided that if he knew nothing else, he at least knew that it wasn't unpleasant to kiss Jesse.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he said, eventually, and got out of the car. He watched Jesse drive away, and stood in his garden as the dew fell on his shoes for a minute, before turning and going back inside.


End file.
